


Regalia

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: Strange Hearts & Wild Things [14]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Badass Queens and the Kings Who Love Them, Badass Warrior Queens, Feels, Fluff, Gift Giving, Gifts, Humor, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bog King of the Dark Forest pays proper homage to Queen Marianne of the Fairy Kingdom…</p><p>Part 14 of my "Strange Hearts & Wild Things" series!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regalia

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how I promised a follow up regarding Bog not having a gift for Marianne's coronation? Here you go =) 
> 
> Funny thing is, this wasn’t even going to be its own fanfic, nor have its own separate place for this timeline! I was simply going to have it as a follow-up drabble tacked on as an extra chapter to "Coronation"… 
> 
> I also certainly didn’t intend it to take me so long nor give me so much trouble, but c’est la vie. As always, I hope you enjoy!

The sunlight that fell across the floor of the Dark Forest filtered through a canopy of leaves, the soft Summer wind stirring them so that the beams dappled and danced across the warm, dark dirt. Though always a place of shadows, the shade of the Forest was now sultry instead of cool and deep as it stretched across moss and stone, traced the trunks of trees. 

The thrall of the warmer season had come to the Forest just as it had come to the Fields, with goblins nestling down deep into roots or sprawled across refreshingly cool rocks, resting up for a night of hunting, growling and snoring out their contentment. Even the fiercest of predators would fall prey to the spell of Summer winding through the wind, and the Forest was full with a rare murmuring peacefulness, the day slowly sliding into early, languorous evening. 

But the light that fell and flashed upon the violet wings of the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom glowed with a glimmering violet glory that defied any shadowy stupor, her voice cutting through the sleepy warmth as brightly and keenly as a blade, its energy banishing any sultry spell.

“—should have  _seen_  their faces when I called for the meeting. I swear, when they saw Hadrian and Antony sitting at the head of the table—!” Marianne gave a laugh and flipped onto her back, her wings catching the warm wind, letting her glide as smoothly as a leaf upon a stream before she happily glanced to where her lover flew beside her. “Antony isn’t a Healer like Hadrian, but he’s  _super_  into reform for our educational system. He’s always tried to bring the Council’s attention to the terrible materials students in the Fields are stuck with. And now that he and Hadrian are dating they’re a  _total_ power couple.” Marianne gave a rather evil grin, her eyes sparkling wicked and bright. “The Council was  _this_  close to declaring them an official threat to the  _‘grand and noble traditions of the Fairy Kingdom’.”_

“Said grand and noble traditions being bigotry, patriarchy, and discrimination against lower classes,” Bog observed dryly. 

Marianne laughed, giving her wings a little flit. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Bog shook his head in disgust, weaving around her easily, his buzzing wings catching the light as well in a million little iridescent rainbows. “ _This_  is why the Dark Forest doesn’t bother with nobility and all that rubbish. You’ve got your ruler and your warriors, aye, but a Goblin is a Goblin.”

“You got to remember the Fairy Kingdom is home to more than just one species,” Marianne pointed out. “Fairies, elves, pixies, brownies…and then there’s the fact that some creatures have been here longer than others.” She scowled briefly. “Though that obviously doesn’t excuse attitudes like those councilors have. It just means they’ve had a long time to flourish.” 

Bog grinned slyly. “But now you’ve started uprooting them.” 

The look Marianne gave him in return was just as sly, the smile curving across her lips one shade shy of cruel. “Oh, _ruthlessly._  I told you I was going to make those bastards crawl for that trick they pulled.” 

Bog’s eyes were admiring as they drank in her dark delight, savoring the wicked satisfaction sparkling in her gaze. “Aye, you did. You were also going to tell me just  _how_  you went about that—” 

Marianne tossed her head with airy casualness, sunlight burnishing her locks with a redwood glow and making her crown glint green-gold. “By beating them at their own game, of course. They pulled up obscure and archaic laws to stop you from attending my coronation, so my first duty as Queen was to dig up some even  _more_  obscure and archaic laws to get back at them. I don’t think anyone was expecting me to spend my first few days of ruling in the Library.” She laughed, looking down at her tunic and smoothing her hands over it. “Not gonna lie, those older shelves are  _super_ dusty.”

Bog wove around an elm and cocked his head curiously. “What did you find?” 

“Some articles that predate even their bigoted laws.” Marianne gave an almost lazy flutter of her wings, stretching languid arms. “Did you know that back in the old days of the Fairy Kingdom, the King and Queen had complete power to declare a party or a person treasonous? It’s where the need for a Council was born, to keep the ruler in check. But…” Marianne’s grin grew in its wickedness, unabashed and unrepentant, “…the Council had to be held to the same standards of the rulers they served. Fair is fair and all that.” 

The fine line of her brow furrowed with mock thoughtfulness, her crown lowering a bit with the action. “You know, given all the fuss that was made about Hadrian joining and being  _‘so very young’_ , these laws had a  _lot_  to say about the dangers  _old and senile_  members posed.” 

A nefarious sort of delight lit Bog’s eyes, the blue of them all the brighter for it. “Oh,  _really?”_

 _“Really._   And even though those laws  _were_  given amendments, the wording of them was just a little bit… _loose.”_  Marianne bit her lip to keep a smug smile from spreading over her face. “I guess you and Dawn inspired me.  And I’ve _never_  been able to resist an adventure.” 

“What kind of an adventure—?” 

Amber eyes flashed with obvious enjoyment. “A  _different_ one. One that involved finding some  _very_  exploitable loopholes regarding the right to hold a position on the Council after passing a certain number of years.” Marianne’s smile broke forth, magnificent and more than just a bit malicious. “Guess which councilors just so  _happen_  to qualify? Bigotry, meet ageism.”

Bog gave a bark of laughter and circled round her, eyes narrowing in appreciation. _“Look at you…”_  he practically crooned, and Marianne had to bite back a laugh at both the familiar words and the devious delight in his voice. “Using their very blade against them. That must have cut deep.”

“I’m pretty sure dead flies couldn’t have fallen faster than their faces did,” Marianne agreed, chuckling at the memory. “But it gets better. Having the laws to make it legal to dismiss them was…” She gestured with her hand, fingers curling through the air, “…gosh, it was almost  _poetic_ , you know? Since they went through all that trouble to find the laws that would make it legal to bar you on one of the biggest days of my life.” They were over the ferns now, and Marianne stroked the stalk of one. It unfurled to the warm, perfumed evening air in a graceful curl that Marianne followed, ducking around the swaying stalk to smirk at Bog. “But dismissing them would have been too simple. So…I added a little twist.” 

Bog pushed leafy fronds aside to raise a brow at her, the action languid even as deep merriment shone in his eyes. “Of the knife?” 

Marianne gave him a playful look. “So to speak. See, everyone _knew_  what I was doing,  _why_  I was doing it, though they didn’t dare say so out loud. So they  _knew_  that they were going to face punishment for pulling that stunt. But, you see, they were  _certain_  that all I would be able to do was dismiss them. Which would suck, of course, since it’s a loss of position and dignity, but at least that was all I could do.” 

Marianne turned to him, eyes wide with faux-innocence. “Well, you know  _me_. I couldn’t have  _that_ , seeing as they’ve always gone on and on about how I’m so—”

“— _different,”_ Bog finished, eyes crinkling in amused affection as he looked at her.  

“Exactly.” Marianne sniffed, fanning out a hand to study her nails. “I couldn’t disappoint them by doing what they  _expected_. That would be  _boring_. So, being a wise and just Queen…I offered them a choice.” 

Bog quirked a brow. “And that choice was…?” 

“They could willingly and quietly resign from the Council instead having the indignity of me dismissing them.” 

Bog started with surprise, but Marianne swiftly held up a finger, eyes glowing golden-bright with wicked triumph. “But  _only_ if as they gave their signature to the proclamation that would abolish the law that barred those outside of the Fairy Court from attending coronations and similar events.” She held out her hands reasonably. “See, a certain number of signatures is  _required_  for it to  _pass_ —”

“And what better way to satisfy that requirement than by getting the signatures of the very fools who sought to use it in the first place,” Bog breathed, stopping in the air and closing his eyes at the sheer cunning of her plan. His exhale was a soft gust of laughter, and when he opened his eyes to look at her, the blue of them practically glowed with awe and admiration.  _“Ye wicked, scheming, absolutely brilliant girl.”_

“You mean wicked, scheming, absolutely brilliant  _Queen_.” Marianne’s smile was beautifully evil, sweet satisfaction sparkling in her eyes. “That’s not all. When some of them started to shout about that little detail, I gave them their other option: I would  _forcibly_  dismiss them and publically strip them of any and all titles they held in the Fairy Court. Because their little stunt? Totally full of treasonous intent to thwart my diplomacy program.” She crossed her arms smugly. “Turns out the choice was actually pretty easy to make. Sir Elderic practically  _impaled_  the parchment with the pen, he was so furious.” 

Bog’s chuckle was low and rich, and he shook his head in admiration as he looked at her. “Ah bludy  _knew_  ye were going ta be an absolutely vicious queen…” Bog murmured, a definite smoldering sparking in his eyes, the blue bright and undeniably smitten. 

“Sweet talker,” Marianne teased, drifting closer to him all the same, drawn to that flame. 

 _“Honest,”_  Bog countered, winding an arm about her waist and pulling her to him, a capture Marianne did nothing to prevent, not when his voice was a soft rumble rolling through her. She snuggled deeper into the embrace, laying her cheek upon his scaly chest as Bog pressed a kiss upon her brow, his murmur ruffling her hair like the Summer wind through the leaves of his land. “Only ever that, Tough Girl.” 

Marianne sighed happily, and she felt Bog’s smile as he nuzzled her back, his nose nudging at her crown. Knocked askew, it fell slightly over one of Marianne’s ears, and she swiftly went to right it. But Bog beat her to the punch, adjusting it accordingly and tucking a lock behind her ear for good measure before he gave a rather abashed huff of laughter. “Got to get used to that—”

“You’re not the only one,” Marianne quipped, giving him a smile and a light kiss to soothe any lingering embarrassment. “I keep forgetting to take it off before training, it’s a wonder it hasn’t been dented by now. Though I  _should_ learn to fight while wearing it.  Kings have done it, so can I—”

“It would make a hells of a sight, wearing that and thrashing your foes,” Bog said, his smile only having the slightest trace of a smirk. 

“And they’ll all talk about how  _impressive_ the Fairy Queen was, wielding her sword and managing  _not_  to drop her crown,” Marianne said dryly, rolling her eyes. 

“Just so.” Bog’s smile softened into serious sincerity as he studied her. “Aside from that…how has it been? Being Queen?” 

 _“Weird,”_  Marianne declared fervently, and swatted at Bog when he threw back his head with a bark of laughter. “But  _good_  weird. C’mon, almighty Bog King,  _you_  know what it must be like, ruling a Kingdom—”

“I know how it is to rule  _my_  Kingdom,” Bog countered, a chuckle still coloring his voice enough that Marianne held up her hand in a faux-threat. He held up his own in a familiar gesture of playful surrender before he looked at her, steady and straight on. “The Fairy Kingdom is different. I wouldn’t insult you by making assumptions. Apart from those buggers on your Council, has anything else given you grief?” 

Marianne’s heart gave a sweet little twist at his thoughtfulness, and she reached out to curl her hand with his, dark and gnarled claws lacing with fair and seemingly fragile fingers. “Honestly, it’s been fine. After I took care of the ringleaders of that little stunt and appointed a new Council, everyone knew I wasn’t messing around. I guess you could say I terrified them into submission.” She chuckled. “Guess I  _have_  been hanging out with goblins a lot—” 

“You were terrifying well before you started keeping my company, Tough Girl,” Bog countered. Marianne felt a smug little glow of happiness at that, warming her to the very tips of her wings. He continued on, cocking his head at her curiously. “You’ve already appointed a new Council?” 

“Some new Council  _members,”_  Marianne amended. “The law is that if the King and Queen can’t find new replacements after a certain period of time, the remaining Council votes them in.” She smiled with great satisfaction. “Luckily that wasn’t an issue for me. I’ve already talked to my preferred candidates, and each one was eager to help.”

Bog squinted at her thoughtfully, his thumb tracing over hers. “I know you said you would have your sister and her Elf—”

 _“Sunny,”_  Marianne interjected, giving him a poke.

“— _Sunny_  join those ranks, but I hadn’t known you had others selected.” Bog’s frown was one of concern, not reprimand. “I would have thought the fairies who support your aims would be too young to be elected—”

Marianne grinned, sharp and victorious. “Who said that I chose  _fairies?”_

Bog’s eyes widened with shock.  _“Ye did nae.”_

 _“Oh, yes I did.”_  Marianne’s grin deepened and her eyes shone amber bright with pleasure as she surveyed the wonder on his face and gently pulled away from him to hold up a hand, ticking fingers up with each name. “We have Dawn and Sunny now, so that makes our first female Fairy and our first Elf. Hadrian was already part of the Council, but now he has Antony joining him, which means both medication  _and_  education become priorities.” 

Bog shook his head dazedly, the sharp line of his own mouth beginning to curl in a smile, but Marianne wasn’t finished, the early evening sun shining through her wings and tracing the segmented lines of his scales with a violet glow as she drifted around him with the lazy grace of a dandelion seed. “Then there’s Agatha. She’s the typical age of your average Council member – she’s been teaching for years now, Antony is practically her protégée. She’s one of the few fairies who  _wanted_  to work in the outer areas of Fields – families out there need all hands to help out, and visiting tutors there are rare. Agatha’s determined to change that, and she told me she wants to do the same with the Dark Forest. Then there’s Iris and Knotgrass, our very first pixies, and Mellea, our very first Brownie…” 

Marianne briskly turned to Bog, her eyes dancing. “It’s just a start, but that’s two female fairies, an Elf, two pixies, and a Brownie. It’s the first Council to have  _all_  of the subjects of the Fairy Kingdom represented.” Unable to keep her happiness contained any longer, Marianne impulsively hugged herself and spun through the air, twirling and looping around Bog, practically singing.  _“And it’s **my**  Council, I actually made it happen, I’m freaking making history, I can’t believe it—!” _

“You avenged yourself on those who wronged you and advanced your Kingdom in one fell swoop,” Bog said, watching the flash and flutter of her wings as she flew through the air with keen pleasure, deep and unmistakable pride in his eyes.  _“Clever girl.”_

“Clever  _Queen,”_  Marianne laughed, and gave another mad twirl through the air as she burst into song.  _“I’m the best around! Nothing’s ever gonna keep me dow_ —oof!” 

Her boot had hooked on a loose vine curling at the stem of a fern, and Marianne found her victorious flight cut short as she stumbled backwards into another patch of ferns, causing a mass of them to rapidly unfurl. 

Marianne swiftly darted out of their way and flew back to Bog, her cheeks a bit pink and her crown once more askew. She quickly righted it and coughed into her fist. “Um, so… _yeah._  Everything’s been great.”

Bog’s lips gave a traitorous twitch but he managed to keep any further amusement in check. “Good. I’d have hated for your first weeks of ruling to be wasted on any other old codgers giving you trouble.” 

Marianne tilted her head, fixing him with a sultry stare that clearly said she was well over her fumble with the ferns. “Oh, I don’t know…” she murmured, her voice just above a purr as she came closer to him. “There’s this one King who’s given me nothing  _but_ trouble—”

Bog’s grin was sharp in both the fangs it displayed and how utterly unrepentant it was as he pulled her close to him, his voice dropping to a murmur as well, a hint of a growl coming through.  _“Ye like it.”_

Marianne hummed thoughtfully as she wound her arms about his neck, her nails clicking against his exoskeleton as she drummed her fingers in consideration. “Maybe, but when  _trouble_  decides that a very busy Queen has to leave her Kingdom to go to  _his_ , she’s got to wonder  _why_ —”

 _“Told ye,”_  Bog murmured against her lips, and Marianne was tempted to dart her tongue out, see if she could taste his words, sweet and smoky with a dark sort of delight.  _“Ah have somethin’ fer ye.”_   

“And it’s a big secret,” Marianne grumbled softly, rolling her eyes in a manner that was far more fond than exasperated. She then bit her lip and gave him a playfully pleading look, making her eyes as big as she could. “C’mon, Bog, I want to know—”

“Not much of a secret if you know,” Bog countered, smirking slightly as he eyed how her blunt white teeth caught the rosy flesh of her mouth with undeniable interest. 

“I want to know…” Marianne continued on, her voice the velvety soft tease of petals over skin and scales, languidly lifting a hand to toy with one of his ears and smirking at Bog’s resulting shiver, “… _why_  the King of the Dark Forest decided that the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom  _had_  to be pulled away from her Fields to go to his Forest—” 

“The King did not  _pull_  her,” Bog corrected in a soft, husky growl, and now it was Marianne’s turn to shiver. “In fact, the King  _distinctly_  remembers the Queen being  _quite_  eager to leave—”

“The King  _knows_ the Queen has  _very important_  work to do—”

“The King recalls the Queen looked spectacularly bored at that great desk with all those  _very important_  papers covering it, all of which could wait for a wee while—” 

Marianne dropped her arms and flew back, her expression somewhere between indignant and laughter. “The King is _such_  a freaking hypocrite, like he would  _ever_  let work wait—!”

“Nevertheless,” Bog replied, holding up a claw in a way Marianne would have found infuriating if it hadn’t been for the sly humor in his eyes, “The King of the Dark Forest happens to know the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom quite well—” 

 _“Very_  well,” Marianne drawled wickedly as she eyed him with blatant lasciviousness, internally cheering when Bog flushed.  _Point to me._  She grinned and continued on cheekily. “Downright  _intimately_ , in fact—” 

“Aye, well…” Bog coughed, still a bit of a blush to his cheeks as he rallied himself. “The King knows the Queen well enough to be certain she wouldn’t mind an escape from one of the more  _tedious_  parts of ruling—” 

“It didn’t  _have_  to be an escape,” Marianne retorted, a teasing twist to her lips. “He could have kidnapped her. I heard he once kidnapped a Fairy Princess, he might like the challenge of a Queen—”

Bog froze, eyes widening. 

Marianne took in his expression and immediately shook her head, even as her shoulders shook began to shake with repressed laughter. “ _Oh my god_ , Bog,  _no,_  you  _can’t_  kidnap me—”

“Not  _now_ ,” Bog muttered, still wide eyes looking away from her and off into the distance as though seeing a spread of all the delightful possibilities her words had just revealed to him. “But Ah’m bludy well goin’ ta save tha’ idea—”

Marianne snorted, giving his arm a gentle swat. “Then the least you can do is to give me a heads up. The guards are busy enough as it is without flying after a Queen who isn’t even in danger.”

“And who can take care of herself,” Bog added, finally coming out from his haze to smirk at her, pride and fondness curving his mouth. 

“Damn straight,” Marianne agreed, throwing her head back proudly and quickly having to clutch at her crown as it slid once again at the force of the gesture. 

Bog smiled briefly before giving her a hesitant, strangely guilty look.  _“Is_  this a good time for you?” 

Marianne arched a brow. “To be kidnapped?”

Bog gave her a mild scowl. “To come  _here._  To be away from your Kingdom.” His scowl softened, concern in his eyes. “I know that you have your training in the morning and your meetings at midday. I thought that you wouldn’t miss too much by coming over to the Castle during the evening, but if you don’t want to be away from your realm too long—” 

“Bog,” Marianne interrupted, her tone going from teasing to soothing, “it’s  _fine. You’re_  fine.” She twisted her fingers with his and gave him a look that was equal parts tender and mischievous. “You’re also  _super_  easy to tease. You know that if I had anything honestly important going on I wouldn’t have come.” Her smile was warm and impish. “I just like giving you a hard time.” 

“You like giving me  _trouble,”_  Bog corrected, dry resignation in his voice and upon his face. “Wicked wee thing that you are.” 

Marianne merely chuckled as she twined her arms once more around his neck, bumping her nose to his.  _“You like it,”_  she purred, a soft but decided heat to both her words and her gaze as she looked up at him through the fan of her thick, dark lashes. 

Bog’s eyes sunk to a smolder as well. “Despite all logic and reason…aye, tha’ Ah do.” 

Marianne’s smile was sweetly wicked with victory as she closed the scant few inches between them to kiss him with a slow, kindling hunger. Bog readily met it with his own, and soon Marianne was lost in a haze of rapture, dazedly and distantly amused that they were making out in midair once again, right over the floor of the Forest where  _anyone_ could see them…

But it was a worry that melted away easily at the sweet pull of his lips on hers, and Marianne relished and returned each caress, her fingers scratching through the leafy scales of his scalp, holding him hungry and close. God, but his mouth was practically a sin in and of itself, what with the hot wet rough velvet drag of his tongue and the slight scrape of his fangs and how incredibly  _soft_ his lips were, how  _easy_  it was to tug and tease at them—

Marianne gave the lower one a nibble, eliciting a low, rough noise of pleasure from Bog that pulled a heady hum of appreciation from her. When they finally parted, both were panting and Bog’s sharp cheeks were flushed, his smile a sweet mix of abashed and pleased, eyes shining bright and blue. “Be that as it may…” he murmured, and Marianne felt a sweet furl of heat curl through her at his slightly thickened tones, “…I would be remiss as a fellow ruler if I kept you away from your Kingdom too long.” He glanced up to the sky, taking in how low the sun was before nodding and pulling back from her. “Best be getting on.” 

Marianne gave a theatrical sigh but let her arms drop from his neck, flying off in the direction of his Castle. “If the King commands…” 

“The King can command, but the Queen decides if she’ll listen,” Bog replied absent-mindedly as he followed her. He stopped abruptly, expression stiff with shock before he gave a laugh, wry and surprised. “Gods, but that sounded like my father. Good job Mother wasn’t around to hear that.” 

“I should talk to your mom,” Marianne laughed, swooping slow and smooth around him in lazy circles. “Queen to Former Queen. Maybe we could compare notes on ruling and managing grumpy Kings—”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to warrant such threats…” Bog muttered dryly, circling around her before darting off, forcing a still laughing Marianne to keep up. 

Marianne bit down on a giggle as his Castle loomed closer, the sight of it provoking the same pleasurable warmth of homecoming her Palace did. She regarded the skull entrance fondly, idly reflecting over the memory of her first critique and the gratitude she now had over its recovery from the ruin Roland and his cronies had wrought. Honestly, despite being more of a dead tree than a stump what with its height and sturdiness and the broader reach of the gnarled roots that curled and coiled in and out of the soil like serpents, the current Castle of the Bog King was comfortingly familiar to his old fortress. 

Marianne’s exhale as she touched down at the entrance was long and gusty with contentment, glancing around. Summer had sent ivy twining up the trunk, giving a lush greenness that was striking against the usual moldering majesty, a pairing of richness and rot that Marianne found beautifully  _different_  from anything the Fields could offer. She batted at an ivy leaf looped around one of the skulls teeth with a fond smile.  _Dark or Light, it’s good to be home._

She was pulled from her reverie quite literally as Bog’s claws clasped at her hand, his wings still thrumming in flight and his voice carrying the edge of controlled but intense eagerness. “C’mon, Tough Girl, not there yet.” 

“You’re not even telling me  _where_ we’re going,” Marianne protested, but she took to the air again with a smile, readily letting him take her hand and guide her out of the entrance hall, through the Throne Room, and down one of the many corridors that branched off from it, even as curiosity burned through her blood. “Bog, seriously, what  _is_  this thing—?” 

“You’ll see,” Bog vowed, his smile baring his fangs and keen anticipation in his eyes, and for one wild and weird moment, Marianne was inexplicably reminded of Dawn. 

Bog’s grin deepened when they reached one of the many spiraling stairs the Castle had and he flew up it. “Shan’t have to wait for much longer, I told them to move it up from below once I had left to get you—” 

Marianne’s brow furrowed in bewilderment as she followed him. “ _Below?_ You’re giving me something from the  _dungeons?”_  What the  _hell_  could he have found there, it only held some old cages and shackles and—

_Shackles._

**_OH._ **

That could  _definitely_  be—

Dazed by all the images her mind was suddenly awash with, Marianne almost faltered in her flight, but Bog merely smirked and held her hand fast when they reached the second level and started down the curving hall. “Not precisely. You know the lower levels hold other things besides that—”

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t give me any freaking hints!” Marianne retorted, even as she frantically wracked her brain.  _Dungeons, armory, the hot springs in the underground caverns—_

But he had said that whatever it was it had to be  _moved_  by the goblins—

_What could it possibly be—?_

Lost to her ponderings, Marianne didn’t notice Bog’s abrupt stop, bumping into his back with a grunt. Bog merely touched down smoothly, Marianne following suit with a bit less finesse, still trying to come up with something.  _Archives, there’s always the Archives._ Maybe he had found some ancient text for her to use in her diplomacy—?

Nowhere closer to puzzling the answer out, Marianne finally looked up to take in their final destination. Her brows shot up, and she didn’t bother trying to hold back her snort. “Your  _bedroom?”_ She crossed her arms and turned to face Bog, favoring him with a sassy smirk. “No big surprise  _there,_ almighty Bog King. I know  _that_ place pretty damn well.”  _Especially the bed._

But Bog’s smile was slow and dangerous in its sheer satisfaction, and Marianne felt her heart skip a beat. Oh god, if he actually  _did_  have shackles—

“It’s not the chambers…” Bog said, and his voice was practically a purr, he was so obviously pleased with himself, “…it’s what’s _in_  them.” His expression was an unbearably endearing mix of smug and sweet shyness, and when he took her hands, Marianne blinked in surprise as she felt the slight twitch to them, realizing with a pulse of shock that he was nervous. His voice, however, remained steady and soft. “Ah have somethin’ fer ye, Tough Girl.” 

Marianne rolled her eyes, equal parts amused and exasperated. “So you’ve said about a dozen times—”

But Bog was not to be thwarted, still holding her hands and looking into her eyes, blue bright and intent. “I wanted to give it to you as soon as it was finished, but…well, it’s not the easiest thing to transport, and I felt that discretion had to be a priority if I was to keep my presence at your Palace unknown—”

Marianne’s brow scrunched in confusion.  _His presence at the Palace…?_

_Oh my god, **my coronation**. Sweet skies, did he—?_

Marianne’s heart began to tremble and race, a fact that was embarrassingly obvious when she spoke. “Bog…?” 

“You father gave you your blade in honor of your crowning.” Bog nodded to the sword that gleamed at her side. “And you said your sister had crafted you the gown you wore, and then there was the necklace from your mother…” 

His fingers tightened, and the eyes that met hers were apologetic. “To come to you on the night of your triumph empty handed, I hated it—”

“Bog,” Marianne interrupted, pressing his hands to her heart with fervent ferocity, her eyes wide and shining with sincerity, “Bog, you being there was more than I could have  _ever_  hoped for. I swear, you don’t need to get me anything,  _nothing_ – please don’t think I would  _ever_  want you to worry about—” 

“I know I did not  _need_ to,” Bog interrupted, pressing a kiss to her brow. “But  _I_ wanted to, Tough Girl.” Though his smile was sly again, a trace of bashfulness lingered at the curve of it, and Marianne wanted to kiss it away. “Besides, it wasn’t as if I had to  _fend_  for myself. Your sister’s gotten quite the taste for secrecy and subterfuge since she plotted with me against your Council. She’s been eager for another chance to aid me, tenacious wee thing. This endeavor suited her skills quite well—” 

Marianne’s head swam, anticipation and bewilderment and surprise making her run a hand dazedly through her hair, nearly dislodging her crown again. “Dawn helped—? Her skills—?” 

“Were invaluable, yes.” Bog shrugged a shoulder, scales crackling. “I don’t think it would have ever turned out so well if I hadn’t had her help—”

Marianne glared at him even as her heart thudded in her breast. “Bog, I swear to the skies, if you don’t stop teasing me and  _just tell me what it is,_ I will—”

“Ah cannae tell ye.” Bog’s slant of a smile was the smuggest, most maddeningly attractive thing Marianne had ever seen, and he freed one of his hands so that his claws could curl at the handle of the door to his chamber. “But Ah can show ye. But first…ye got ta close yer eyes.” 

Marianne arched a brow. 

Bog’s smile was practically boyish. “It’s a surprise, Tough Girl. It’s what ye do.”

The noise Marianne made somewhere between a snort and a sigh, but she closed her eyes nonetheless. He was one of the select few she trusted enough to do that for, but sweet skies, he was drawing this whole thing out. 

And damn it, she couldn’t help but find it immensely sweet that he was so undeniably excited to give  _her_  something— 

That thought in mind, Marianne favored him with an unseeing smirk. “Y’know, you’re being really  _cute_  right now…”

There was a scoff, warm breath washing over her, and then the creak of a door being opened, and his claws pricked gently at her palm as he took her hand once more and led her in. “Wait here, keep those eyes closed.”

Marianne crossed her arms but obliged him, her smirk now curling across her lips. “I take it back, you’re being  _adorable—”_

“Such insults…” Bog muttered, and there was a scraping sound like a something heavy was being dragged across the floor. “Even as I give her a gift.”

Marianne cocked her head curiously, shifting from one foot to another in her impatience. “Can I open my eyes yet—?”

“Almost there, Tough Girl. Just need to—” there was some clinks like the slide of metal, and a low oath. “Just need to get it  _right._  Keep them closed, and try not to malign my honor further.”

Marianne grinned. “But you  _are_  being cute.” 

Bog gave a grunt and then a soft laugh. “No one will believe you. Right, you can look.” 

Marianne chuckled, opening her eyes. “I was going to say it actually works for y—”

Any further words died on her lips as air left her lungs and her eyes widened at the sight before her. Her heart thudding distantly in her ears, Marianne was barely aware of her hands going to her mouth, trembling fingers pressed helplessly upon her lips. 

A suit of armor stood in front of her, the most stunningly gorgeous piece of craftsmanship Marianne had ever laid eyes on. At her first, dazed glance, it looked to be made along the lines of the standard set of armor of her Kingdom, but…

Marianne took a step forward, bewildered but bewitched. It was… _different_. Beautifully and strangely so. Instead of smooth lines and unmarred surfaces, the lines of it were sharp, almost jagged, overlapping like scales to give textured flexibility. The metal mesh of the chainmail weaving beneath the plates had links so fine it looked almost liquid, but the plates bore prickly patches, a thorny thicket cast in metal. Her Kingdom’s strength and the bristling warning of the Dark Forest, melded together magnificently…

_Dark…_

Marianne came closer, still silent as she drank it in with rapturous wonderment. The hue of it wasn’t the silver soldiers of her Kingdom had, nor the dull bronze of the higher ranks or even the gleaming green and gold knighthood granted –  _thank goodness,_  Marianne thought briefly, flashing back to Roland’s grandiose gleam with a twist of her lips. 

Instead, the stain of the metal was dark,  _much_  darker than anything ever seen in the Fairy Kingdom. At first glance Marianne had thought it black, but that was deceptive. The true shade of it was a purple the likes of which Marianne had never seen, a rich aubergine with the deep warmth of burgundy, glints of maroon coming through in a soft luster as she circled it in examination, like a goblet of wine catching the fire’s glow.  _A darkness that had warmth, held color…_

The accents of it were gold – not the bright, attention seeking gilding that Roland had so loved to flash about, but the one used for the hilt of her new sword, a shadowy gleam to it like dusk had been melted and mixed into the molten metal. It edged the scaly segments so that the jagged lines were burnished and exaggerated, thorny points and straight edges traced with a glow of glory. 

The sun of her Fields would make it blaze forth in a brave and bold hue, while the shadows of the Forest would take her in, let her slide in and out of the trees and bracken soft and smooth as the nighttime wind, moonlight staining her silvery, casting the armor in a strange splendor. 

Marianne dazedly reflected that her sword and her crown would go with it  _perfectly_. God, not to mention her wings—

She suddenly pictured herself wearing it, swinging her sword high and fanning out her wings before a fight, the glow of them falling across the plates and mail, and immediately broke out into a shiver.  _Holy **hell**._

A soft shaft of early evening sunlight suddenly came through one of Bog’s windows, bathing the armor in both light and shadow. The sun caught on the raised metalwork and scaly edges so that they gleamed all the more, while the gloom cast the other half with an air of decided menace.  _Doesn’t need much help with that…_

Marianne’s exhale was a shivery, shaky thing, full of the same emotion that was making her eyes burn as they lingered over each segmented piece, trace over the leafy pauldrons and scaly chest plate. It was…

It was the warm glow of her Fields and the cool shadows of his Forest, the smooth slide of chainmail to stabilize her and the prickle of burnished thorns to bite into grasping hands that would hold her back.

It was the command of her Kingdom and the ferocity of his Forest, forged together into a gorgeous and threatening promise, a vow of protection and a dark and dangerous warning.

It was…it was…

It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever saw. 

Marianne pressed a trembling hand to her heart as it gave a fierce throb. And it was  _hers_. 

At long last, she was finally able to find her voice. “…Armor. You…you made me armor?” 

She could hear Bog behind her, his scales crackling as he shifted, cracking his neck a bit before giving a slight cough, and when he spoke, his voice was somewhere between nervous and pleased. “Aye, I did. Well, uh, not me  _personally_. Your sister had the idea to have one of our blacksmiths modify one of your Kingdom’s suits. And then, well, she had already known what color she wanted it to be, but then she got, um,  _inspired_  after she saw one of my molts. She thought we should, um, incorporate some of – well,  _structure_ the plates a bit like my exoskeleton, though it meant she had to study it – uh,  _me_ , for ages on end.” He gave another cough. “Don’t think I’ve ever bore such scrutiny before.” There was a rasp of claws going over the leafy scales of his scalp, and his voice was both eager and shy when he spoke again. “What…what d’you think—”

“You made me armor,” Marianne repeated, still staring at the dark magnificence before her. 

“Yes, um…yes I did. I just…I wanted it to be something you could  _use_ , but your father had given you your sword, and – Dawn, well, she said you had always  _wanted_  a suit of armor, one that was all your own. She said that you once tried to use a spare suit, but that it didn’t fit your, um,  _form_ , since your Kingdom doesn’t typically have your females fight. And…” there was a shuffling noise, another rasp of a palm passing over a scaly scalp. “I…I  _know_ you can take care of yourself. This isn’t–I  _know_  you can, Tough Girl, I’ve  _never_  doubted that. I just…I thought this was a way to… _proclaim_  that? You have to be strong to wear this armor.” His voice softened, turned introspective. “In more ways than one.” There was another throat clearing, and another scraping shuffle. “Do…do you li—?”  

“You.” Marianne stated, whirling around to advance on Bog, and he jumped a bit as she stabbed her finger at his chest, punctuating each of her words, “Made me.  _Armor_.”  

Bog gave a nervous gulp, wide and worried eyes flickering between her face and her finger, the bright blue of them flashing with the motion. “Aye, I…I did. Tough Girl, is it—?” 

Any further words were lost as Marianne leapt at him, arms twining tight and legs locking around his hips as she crushed her mouth to his, banishing any other anxious questions and explanations with hot hunger, kissing him with a fervency that bordered on filthy. 

Bog’s yelp of surprise turned into a deep, almost guttural groan as she dragged one set of fingers through the scales of his scales and snaked the other down between his wings to give deep and dragging caresses to their joints. Bog’s knees buckled a bit, causing him to sway dangerously, but neither could be distracted from the onslaught of passion she was lavishing upon him, and it was for far more than the span of a few seconds that the chamber was filled with the sounds of the extremely passionate make out between the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom and the Bog King of the Dark Forest.  

When they finally broke apart, Marianne was breathless but blazing bright, lust and love and sheer ecstatic rapture making her positively bloom, her wings giving little trembling flutters of excitement.  _“You,”_  she panted into Bog’s mouth, grinning wildly. “ _Made. Me. **Armor.**_  That is– _god,_  that is the  _sexiest_  thing you have  _ever_  done, and I remember that  _one_ thing you did with your  _tongue_ —”

 _“Ye really—,”_  Bog panted back, his own wings shivering and twitching under the touch of her still hungry fingers, his eyes looking up into hers with a look of dazed bliss and honest inquiry, “—Ah mean, ye—” he cleared his throat and tried to adopt a nonchalant air, failing miserably. “Ye clearly like it—”

“You  _think?”_  Marianne giggled madly, hands still racing over him hungrily, her smile making her face ache. 

All attempts at nonchalance dropped, and Bog looked up at her eagerly. “Ye  _do?_  It’s not too… _different_ —?”  

Marianne threw back her head and laughed, the happy sound of echoing off the walls and ceiling. “Pretty sure we’ve established that’s what I  _like.”_ She tilted her head back to him so that their noses bumped, her expression so full of love Bog gave a shaky, worshipful exhale. “What  _we_  like. What we  _love._ Bog, I can’t even—” 

Stopping before her voice wobbled even more, Marianne gave a heartfelt sigh, blinking eyes that were threatening to get bright with tears as well as love.  She wiped them with the back of her hand, her smile still wide and warm even as her voice continued to shake a bit. “I have always,  _always_ wanted armor of my own, and now you – and it  _looks_  like you, so no one could ever forget that  _you_ did this, and – and you  _wanted_  me to have it because you  _know_  I can take care of myself, and this is just—”

She sniffled again, and made a valiant effort to get ahold of herself. She took a deep breath and met Bog’s eyes, so blue and so warm with concern, so sweetly anxious that his gift wasn’t enough. “This is the most beautiful thing you could have  _ever_  given me,” Marianne murmured, her heart aching with sincerity and love. “Showing me that  _you_  know I can take care of not just myself, but my Kingdom. Giving me something that makes me stronger, something that shows I was strong to begin with. That is just…Bog, I…I don’t even  _know_  what to say, this means  _so much_  to me.” 

Any lingering nervousness and uncertainty fled from Bog’s face, and he beamed. “Ye  _do_  like it.”  

Marianne burst into peals of laughter, her head falling upon his shoulder.  _“No,”_  she giggled, grinning against the scaly collar of his neck. “No, I freaking  _love_  it.” 

She could practically feel his grin, his voice full of happy wickedness. “So these are good tears?” 

“ _Amazing_  tears. Best tears ever.” She leaned back up and gave him a big, smacking kiss before shaking her head at him, her expression fondly bewildered. “Bog, why would you  _ever_  worry about it being too  _different_ —?” 

“Too different to give a  _Queen_ ,” Bog amended, looking a bit abashed. “I don’t – I didn’t know what gift one from your Kingdom would  _usually_  appreciate—”

“You gave me one that  _I_  would appreciate,” Marianne interrupted, loving sternness and approval both glinting in her gaze as she ducked her head to look at him. “One that  _I_  would love. It doesn’t matter if I’m the Princess or the Queen, or what Kingdom I’m from –  _you know **me**_ , Bog. I couldn’t imagine a better gift, truly.” 

Bog smiled, relief and shyness making it so impossibly endearing Marianne had to resist smothering him in another kiss to see if she could taste the sweetness of it. “Ah’m glad,” he murmured, nuzzling at the tender spot between her ear and her neck, and Marianne shivered happily. “Glad tha’ ye like it.” He then gave a soft snort. “An’ tha’ Ah managed not ta muck it up. Ah haven’t had much experience in such matters.” 

Marianne leaned back to arch a brow at him, surprised. “Goblins don’t do gift giving?” 

But Bog shook his head. “No, they do, it’s just…” he shrugged, his mouth getting a faintly wry twist, “…aside from my mother, I…I haven’t really  _had_ anyone to give a…well, something like  _this_ to.” 

Marianne felt an odd sensation twist through her heart, like it had both clenched and melted at the same time.  _Oh, Bog._

She gently touched her forehead to his, her voice as soft as the gesture. “In that case…” she murmured, eyes affectionate and sincere as they met his, “…I think it’s safe to say that you’re a  _natural_  at it, almighty Bog King.” She smiled at his resulting blush, her expression getting impish. “Got to tell you though, it’s gonna be a hell of an adventure, thinking of a gift for you that will top this one—”

Bog sputtered, flushing even more.  _“What—?_  No, Tough Girl, ye don’t need ta worry about  _tha’_ —”

“Who said anything about  _worrying?”_  Marianne questioned, still grinning as she gave him a nuzzle. 

After all, now  _she_ could be the one to introduce shackles—

She chuckled to herself and then gave a wriggle, and Bog readily let her out of his embrace so that she could go back to the armor –  _her armor!_  – to examine it once more. 

Drinking it in again, the dark luster, the fierce lines of it, so wonderfully similar to his own exoskeleton, Marianne couldn’t stop herself from giving a girlish sigh of happy satisfaction. God, but she couldn’t  _wait_  to wear this at her Palace. Dawn would be ecstatic to see her sister in another one of her glorious creations, and Dad…well, Dad had given her her sword, he would probably be fine with it, she wouldn’t underestimate him anymore. 

Oh  _god_ , she would  _so_  wear it whilst walking proudly past all those former Council members, each and every one guilty of lecturing her over her desire to train.  _You were born to wear the crown and shoulder the legacy of this Kingdom, not grip a sword and rush off into the wild unknown, think of your dear mother, wouldn’t you want her to be **proud**  of you—?_

And then there were all those guards and soldiers and knights who had refused her requests for spars because she was  _The Princess_ , a  _female_ , always sharing a condescending chuckle over her frustration at her inability to find gear that fit her.  _Maybe now she’ll see princesses have no place swinging swords, maybe now she’ll go back to a **safer**  game of dress up, Roland always said she was a stubborn one—_

Marianne’s smile was almost unholy in its anticipation. Ohhh, this was gonna be  _fun_. 

She trailed a hand over the chest plates, her happy sigh sliding into a contented purr as she pictured it in her mind’s eye. God, but she was going to look  _amazing_  in it…she would look like a warrior wearing dark and light, like a true Queen, the kind she had always dreamed of being, one who could command and protect both Fields and Forest…

Not to mention absolutely smoking hot. Marianne smirked a bit, casting a sidelong glance back to Bog.  _Sure you didn’t have any ulterior motives in making this for me, your majesty?_

With a swift suddenness, a wonderful, wicked thought occurred to her, one that made her toes curl in her boots and her wings flitter, and she quickly bit down on a grin.  _Oh, boy. Talk about the gift that keeps on giving…_

She tilted her head, affecting a blasé attitude and tapping her lower lip thoughtfully. “Sooo…” she drawled, cutting sly eyes over to Bog, “…out of curiosity…can this be taken off by one person? Or…is an extra set of hands needed?”

Bog shrugged a shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the armor thoughtfully. “You’d probably be fine on your own. Your sister wanted you to have complete ease in putting it on and taking it off, especially in preparing for battle, time being of the essence and all. I suppose it depends on what’s normal for your soldiers, since it was modified from one of their—”

Marianne was suddenly in his arms again, the lithe lines and supple curves of her body pressing up against his, smooth skin molding close to scales. “And what if…” she purred, looking at him with hot-honey eyes, sweet and molten and tempting, “…an extra set of hands was  _wanted_?” 

Bog blinked, bright blue eyes bewildered as they looked down into hers for a few brief seconds before widening with realization, and—

Marianne’s mouth curled in a deep smirk that echoed the one forming on Bog’s face.  _Quick to take a hint, aren’t you, almighty Bog King?_

“Ah  _suppose_ …” Bog drawled, giving a mock frown of studied seriousness, even as he snaked his claws down the slope of her spine, and Marianne had to bite back a laugh and a squeal as he palmed her ass, pressing her close to him, “…if th’ person  _wearing_  th’ armor  _wanted_ th’ trouble an extra set of hands would give, they certainly could  _command_  it—” 

“The hands would be there to  _help_ , not make _trouble_ ,” Marianne giggled, hooking her leg around his. “And I wasn’t aware Kings could even  _be_ commanded by Queens—” 

“If they’re worthy of their thrones, they are,” Bog stated, eyes full of mirth and sincerity. “Any King can rule, but a true King is ruled by his Queen.” His mouth slanted in a smile. “And if he has any bloody sense, he welcomes it. No chance of my father or I ever forgetting  _that_.” 

Marianne snorted, shaking her head. “Your mother must have been a hell of a Queen.” 

“That she was, and as are you.” Marianne’s heart gave a keen throb as Bog bent his head to hers, eyes steady with sincerity even as his mouth kept that warm slant. “There’s no need to worry about me not listening to  _you_ , Marianne, be it a command or not. We were equals before that crown ever touched your head, Tough Girl.”  

Marianne could only press her forehead against his, scales biting into tender skin, and gave a trembling exhale. She didn’t care if there was a scar – god,  _let_  there be a mark from him, carried right beneath her crown. Let it be known by all the Kingdom, throughout Forest and Fields, that he had bestowed it upon her, that he was the one who  _loved_  her, the King who  _respected_  her, the Goblin who knew her as  _terrifying_ and  _magnificent_  and  _beautiful_  and  _different_  and  ** _his_** —

“And as for the hands givin’ ye more trouble than help,” Bog continued on, his murmur sly and his lips twitching, “Ah have it on good authority that there’s a certain Queen who  _expects_  a certain King to give her nothin’  _but_ trouble—”

“Using my own words against me,” Marianne groaned theatrically, dropping her head to his chest dramatically. “Just like those former Council members. Careful, or I might command you to hang with them—”

“Such dire threats…” Bog murmured into her hair, nuzzling it so unabashedly Marianne was quite certain it was turning into a veritable nest. “See if Ah ever give ye a gift again.” 

“Just as long as I can keep this one,” Marianne laughed, pulling back to give him a nuzzle of her own and a light kiss. 

Bog returned it, unable to keep from smiling into it. “No worries about that.” He then arched a brow at her, cautious eagerness to his eyes. “Do you want to try it on now? Your sister was quite certain everything would be ready for you—”

“Oh god, I  _want_ to,” Marianne said fervently, looking back over her shoulder to the armor with hungry yearning. She then laughed and shook her head, looking back at him with a smile that was equal parts winsome and wicked. “But I  _also_ want to have sex with you. Like, really,  _really_  want to. I wasn’t joking about this being the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever done, I don’t think I’ve  _ever_  been more turned on by a present—”

Bog’s cheeks burned hot, but he still laughed, a warm huff tinged with a familiar edge of sweet self-consciousness. “Ye don’t – Ah mean, tha’ can wait, Tough Girl, Ah don’t want ye ta feel like ye  _have_  ta,  _ah_ , y’know, do  _tha’_  – ye can do  _whatever_ ye like first, Ah don’—”  

“I  _will_  be doing whatever I like first,” Marianne purred, giving his lip a flirty little nip that had Bog inhaling fast and fierce through his fangs. “I need to thank you for it  _properly_ , after all…” 

Never mind that she had the darkly delightful certainty that as soon as Bog saw her dressed in the armor, it would end up being clawed right back off, bearing quite a few marks and mementos from an altogether  _different_ type of battle. While it was undoubtedly tougher than her usual articles of clothing, she didn’t want to give it any undue damages just yet—

Although wouldn’t _that_  be perfect, having its first scars and scratches be because of  _adoration_ , not antagonism—

_Perfect and strange and **different** —_

Marianne’s heart began to race, but there was an incontestable command to the gaze she fixed Bog with, the wicked mischief gleaming in her golden eyes only negating it somewhat, and she began to advance on him. “Remember what you said earlier? How true Kings welcome being ruled and commanded by their Queens?” Her smile was dark and dangerous thing, so sharp with predatory promise it was shock to remember she didn’t have any fangs. “Well,  _this_  Queen is gonna be giving some commands right  _now.”_

Bog blinked before echoing her smile with one of his own and taking steps of his own, his brow lowering so that the bright blue of his eyes burned out at her from shadows as he moved backwards, his voice wicked and warm. “Oh,  _aye_?”

Marianne’s sharp smile grew. “ _Yeah._  And she’s hoping that a certain King will  _listen_  to them.” 

Fangs bared themselves at her. “He’ll listen  _and_  obey, Tough Girl.” 

 _“Good.”_  She then gave a short, sharp shove. 

Bog was caught unawares and, with an oath of surprise, found himself toppling backwards across the mossy stretch of his bed. Somewhat disoriented from the suddenness of the fall, Bog tried to sit up and found himself pinned by a pair of slender and surprisingly strong arms. 

Marianne’s grin was wicked, and this time she didn’t try to catch her crown as it slid from her brow to fall to the moss with a muffled  _flump_. “I will  _totally_ wear the armor. But first…let me do my Queenly duty and thank you for your gift,  _almighty Bog King.”_   

* * *

In accordance to the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom’s command, the armor  _was_  worn after she had given an appropriately extensive and passionate show of gratitude to the Bog King of the Dark Forest, which he proved ardently receptive to and which bestowed several new scratches clawed deeply into the headboard of his bed. 

After donning her new armor, the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom then discovered that the predictions she had made proved to be quite true:

She did indeed look absolutely smoking hot. 

And as soon as he saw her dressed in the dark, fierce magnificence of his gift, the Bog King of the Dark Forest did indeed help her undress with a haste that left the Queen both helpless with laughter and hot with hunger. 

A few hours later, Marianne was curled around one thoroughly sated and deliciously sleepy Bog as languidly and tenderly as a vine, her bare body warm and luminous with the headiness of an afterglow, and she gave a soft, happy little sigh.  _Twice in one day, three gifts in all. Lucky me…_

As her wings gave some contented flutters and her sore lips stretched in a soft, deeply satisfied smile, Marianne lazily looked from the bed to where her gift lay scattered about on the floor like petals from a particularly fierce flower. It wouldn’t do to get into the habit of tossing all the pieces to the floor. A warrior took proper care of  _all_  their defenses…

Though honestly, what better way to test the strength of her new gift then to try it against the fierce and fearsome claws all the denizens of the Fairy Kingdom whispered about?

_Especially when they see them laced with my fingers…_

Marianne tilted her head, considering the glinting and gleaming plates at the foot of the bed, the lacquer of them having the same dark shine as the back of a beetle. Undented and unscarred, gleaming like polished shadows, the armor was truly fit to be worn by a warrior and grace a Queen. 

Well… _mostly_  unscarred. 

Marianne narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Really, the claw marks at the cuisse and the faint bite across the breastplate rather  _added_ something to the whole ensemble. At least, that was  _her_  royal opinion. 

_And that’s what matters._

Thus decided, Marianne grinned and snuggled back into plush moss and her lover’s embrace, her body aching with a sweet, sated smolder and her heart full and singing. 

Honestly, it was  _good_ to be the Queen.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are curious, here's a drawing of how I envisioned Marianne's armor: http://suzie-guru.tumblr.com/post/147591030638/part-two-of-my-fan-art-for-my-fanfic-coronation


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